Dinner With The King
by naturalbornderpy
Summary: Years before the liberation of the Crystal Empire, King Sombra invites six citizens to feast in his castle on the last night of each month. Seldom few are ever seen again. Now a young pegasus who will become known as Guest Number Five has been invited to dine with the King, although his own plans for the night might just lead to everyone's salvation.
1. Chapter 1: Appetizer

CHAPTER ONE:

APPETIZER

1

"I heard he makes them eat glass."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. Because he can, I guess."

"I… can't see that happening."

The pegasus that had been invited to dinner watched the steady shadows of two ponies splayed out along a wall through the open door. If they had thought they were out of earshot, they had been terribly mistaken.

Instead of trying to tune them out or go somewhere else, the pegasus only lowered his head to rest back on his hooves. It had been a position he'd been keeping since his name was read aloud in front of everyone.

That must have been less than twenty minutes ago, already. Which left him—

_Less than an hour_, he finished for himself.

They read your name and an hour later they come to collect you. Anymore time than that and ponies would be more willing to try something brash. Many still did. But escape from the Empire had always been a delusional pipedream and nothing more. Nothing of interest lay beyond those overbearing walls, the stallion knew. That's what the King had told them on far more than a single occasion.

The pegasus readjusted his head and glared at the dozens of empty cots in the wide room he was occupying. On any moment on any other day, more than half of those beds would have been loaded with worn and tired ponies crashing for a spell before the next swifts in their regions. Those with enough energy would sometimes hold hushed conversations between bedmates. Only now was the stallion oddly alone in the room.

Not many wanted to see him that day. Not when there was a good chance they would never see him again.

2

It had all started several years ago. King Sombra had requested the attendance of six citizens of the Crystal Empire for a feast at his castle. Six white, hoofwritten letters with melted candle wax seal bearing the King's likeness went out to the masses. Neither one of the six knew of the other; none was of much higher or lower social class than the other. Although no one in the Empire was truly _above_ the King…

The invited six went with worry in their hearts but curiosity above all. Seldom few were ever allowed within the walls of the castle, instead being left to imagine what lay beyond those crystal peaks as their King would make his speeches high-up on his over-hanging ledge.

Six left for dinner and one returned. The one that came back never spoke a word of what had happened to the others, nor was he the same following that night.

And instantly an evening with the King took on a far more horrifying form.

On the last day of every month, six more letters were sent to the terrified populace.

Always random. Always without a single ounce of semblance were the subjects picked.

Only on a lone occasion did a whole family of six go before the King. The only one to return was the unicorn father with sudden red and swollen eyes, a mouth that hung limp and mumbled constantly. Less than a week later he walked off a tall scaffolding in the far reaches of the mine, perhaps in a bid to return to the rest of his family.

That had been the only trace of a pattern. Ever since it had been random selections once more.

When the letters were sent to individuals, most were destroyed or hidden away. When ponies tasked with bringing them to the castle came to collect, they were adamantly told they had the wrong building and the wrong name as well. Since such negligence would never sit well with the King, more than a few fights broke out and a bloodied and bruised 'guest' would be given over for dinner. On a few occasions (when the invited individual proved a tad _bigger_ than the ponies tasked with delivering them), the drivers would then pick ponies at random from the streets, usually the ones too frail to put up much resistance.

"_Violet Song!_"

"_Brass Steed!_"

It only took a few months before the invitations were collected before going out. One hour before that evening's dinner would commence, the six names would be read for the entire Empire to hear. When more than a few thought the ponies controlling the reading of the names might be placing _other_ names into the mix, the announcer himself inadvertently uttered his own name before realizing what he had done.

He was never heard from again.

Six ponies went with the promise of a feast to remember forever. A single guest returned—forever changed, forever scarred.

But not a single one would say a word of what happened.

3

The pegasus sitting in wait on his thin bed shuttered when he heard the clop of hooves just outside his clouded window. One of the six simple brown chariots that came to scoop up each guest in tow had finally made its way to him.

_Had it been an hour already?_ he thought bitterly.

From under his mattress he picked up the thin and jagged knife he'd stolen from the communal kitchen only minutes after his name had been announced. Along the blade he viewed his worn and sunken eyes as he held it aloft. He wondered if he'd be allowed close enough to him to be able to use such an instrument. He then wondered if he'd be searched before meeting him.

There was a lot left to chance. Yet perhaps there'd be another way.

Tossing the knife back to the bed for whoever wanted it after he was gone, the pegasus trotted out the door and to the entrance before the King's staff bothered to knock. When he entered the hall outside his room more than a few quiet conversations came to a disparaging halt. He didn't bother to stare at anyone or try to make them feel worse than they might—he had never honestly gotten to know a single one of them, so why should he thrash out at them just because the opportunity was available?

A few steps from the front door and suddenly he was wrapped in a set of legs. The owner was a mare much younger than him, a delicate shine in both big eyes.

"You might get lucky, you know?" she told him sincerely. "You might be the one that comes back. I'd really like it if you did."

The pegasus had seen her around their cozy, cramped lodge more than a few times but couldn't place her name. Instead of crushing what little spirit remained by saying, "I don't think so," he rather ruffled her mane while displaying a smile that felt as false as it must have looked. He couldn't help but stop his jaw from quivering.

4

"I'm here to pick up—"

The pegasus held out a hoof for him to stop where he was. The unicorn with a small clipboard held in one hoof glanced at him briefly before averting his eyes. That would be the last time he'd look at him.

Without another word the pegasus climbed aboard the small carriage and shut the door behind him. Since the backseat had been designed to carry more than a single pony, he leaned back and sprawled out along the unyielding seat, just giving his head enough space to glimpse the fading sun in the sky. As much as he tried to block out the tall walls that threatened to nip at the sunset's simple beauty, the pegasus just wasn't up to the task. He was still in the King's domain and he'd be reminded of it until the day he died. And there was a good chance that would be tonight.

Or perhaps something _worse_ than death lay in store for him.

The gentle rocking of the carriage nearly sent him to sleep, but the trip was short enough that by the final stop he was up in an instant.

The unicorn that had trotted them there unhooked himself from the carriage and came around to open the door. It looked as though he wanted to say a few words—maybe a few to make the situation seem less bleak than it clearly was—but gave up before even beginning. As the pegasus climbed down the driver still averted his eyes.

The pegasus whistled. "Sure is tall." He craned his neck to glimpse the mammoth tower of multi-colored crystal before him, ending with its many sparkling sharp peaks. He had seen it every day of his miserable life but this was the closest he'd ever been to it. And now he'd get to go inside its unknowing walls.

The pegasus turned to the unicorn standing idle by his ride.

"What's gonna happen in there?" he asked him.

The unicorn rubbed a foreleg against the other. "I don't know," he said faintly.

"You lying or trying to save your own skin?"

"I really don't know." The unicorn's voice somehow lowered even more. "But… just know… that—"

"That you're _sorry_," the pegasus cut in briskly. "That you feel _terrible_. Well save it. It's easy for you to say such things now—you don't have to be me. You don't have to go eat with the King. But you know what? I'm pretty famished, if I do say so myself. I think I've felt that way for close to my entire life now. So maybe if Sombra's willing to give me some good food before I go away forever, then maybe that'll be just peachy. Maybe that'll be quite the way to go. What do you make of that notion?"

The unicorn stopped rubbing his legs together and lowered his head. It would have to do for an answer.

"That's fine," the pegasus continued. "I'm probably late as it is."

He trotted towards the open set of doors that fed into a richly decorated hallway. Once he'd crossed the threshold and entered the dimness of the hall and the small lamps that hung every few meters along the walls, two sentries from outside pushed the doors shut. The pegasus did not bother to view the outside world one final time. He had never liked it all that much anyways.

Only when he heard the clean snap of the doors connecting again did he fall to the floor and cry.

5

It had been a rising sensation edging its way throughout his body since the carriage had left his home and taken him there. In the overwhelming view of the public eye—and in the silent scrutiny of his unicorn driver—had he merely let those feelings take hold, all while he remained as visibly rigid as he could. But now that he was alone—now that he was _here_ and there was no possible way of turning back—did he let himself become swallowed whole by those welling emotions.

No family was left to mourn for him; few friends would miss him when he was gone. He had a mission he had hastily placed upon himself so even if he was that lucky last surviving guest he was in no means going to leave this place tonight. He would finish his foolhardy mission because it could only benefit everyone in the Empire, and if he died doing so then he would perish a proud pony. He could speak all the tough words he could fathom to as many of Sombra's drones as he could and yet never hold a single one of them responsible for what was about to unfold tonight—orders were just orders.

He could feel all these things and accept them as they were. But underneath it all he was scared. Underneath it all he was still just a normal pony with normal feelings… and suddenly he did not want to die that night. Or whatever it was that happened to a good majority of Sombra's guests.

So while curled up in a ball on the red carpeted floors he bawled like a filly.

Until someone poked him in the ribs.

"Guest Number Five."

The pegasus on the floor stopped shuddering and glared at the Earth pony that had just prodded him. (He didn't bother to try and hide what he had obviously been doing moments ago.) Unlike the unicorn from before, _this_ servant of the King bore no sympathetic expression to be found. _This_ one only looked weary and almost bored. It was close to refreshing from the sea of sorrow that ran rampant in most streets of the Empire.

_He must be used to the sight of tears_, the pegasus thought. _He must have seen it all, as ponies begged and screamed and tried for any means of escape. What a terrible job you must have—what a terrible _boss_ you must work for._

"Guest Number Five," he said again, not exactly a question or a statement.

The pegasus hastily wiped his moistened cheeks and got to his hooves. "What's that now?"

"From here on in you will be Guest Number Five," the Earth pony said monotone. "The King has never been the type to learn the names of others. Follow me, if you'd be so kind."

Before he turned his back to him, the pegasus (_or I guess 'GUEST NUMBER FIVE'_, he thought bluntly) glimpsed a small tag on the corner of the pony's immaculate suit jacket. He thought it read "GREETER NO. FIVE" by couldn't be certain.

With nothing left to interject with he followed him down the hall, both sets of hooves barely making a sound against the plush carpet. How many times had he even _touched_ such material? How many carpeted areas even _existed_ in the Empire? The pegasus had scarcely a clue.

Their trip was long and silent, as they carefully climbed a seemingly never-ending curve of red carpeted stairs, ascending and ascending until the very notion of just how high they must be felt completely lost on the pegasus. Eventually they came to another door, where his greeter halted by its side with a hoof gently resting on the knob. He didn't make motion to enter; only held onto it delicately. With another leg he reached into a jacket pocket to retrieve a watch. For the rest of their time together he viewed its ticking face with increasing interest.

When the silence ran a little too long, the pegasus asked him, "Any tips?"

The Earth pony still studied his gold watch ardently. "Not really. You might have a tiny bit better chance with the set of wings and all, but then again I might be lying."

Thirty more seconds carefully ticked by.

"Only fate, chance, and luck will see you through," he continued indifferently. "That is, if you believe in such things. Otherwise I bid you goodbye."

He pushed open the door as he shut his pocket watch with a snap. Instead of watch him enter, he redirected his interest to the narrow hall behind them. It was back to business as usual, it seemed.

"I'll make sure to save you some dessert," the pegasus snorted, before he entered the dinning room.

6

He hadn't known what to expect, so the fact that it appeared like the dinning room of his dreams did little to sway the acidy bile steadily rising in his stomach.

The room was larger than most he'd ever been in—oval in shape, every inch of floor hidden beneath more red carpets and lavish large rugs. Eight tall, floor-to-ceiling windows circled the vast room. The sun had disappeared some time ago so each only gave way to darkened clouds and a brilliantly bright full moon. If the hundreds of stairs hadn't given it away before, the view certainly did. They must have been near the very top of the Crystal Empire tower. Dozens of lit candles held on sconces sent out small rays of yellow curving light to different areas of the room. Still with that many light sources, black pockets of shadows remained close to everywhere. The pegasus honestly pondered if a certain King enjoyed it that way.

The long dinning table waited at the very center of the room, cut from some monstrous cherry-red tree and varnished and polished until it shinned. The seven chairs adorning it were made of the same material. In front of each chair was an identical set of silver plates with utensils, twinkling from the many flickering candles on the walls.

Three chairs sat on both sides of the rectangular table, a seventh chair—sat directly in front of a roaring fire pit—had been placed at its head. No plate or utensils of any kind were waiting to be used. While the other six chairs stood empty and waiting, the chair before the fire had already been filled.

King Sombra sat patiently while bits of woods crackled and splintered just behind him. Two dark hooves were held together on the table. Even from such a distance away, the pegasus could make out his trademark red cape and curved silver crown—as well as that monstrous blood-red horn. If it was real or just for show, he had always wondered. Maybe tonight he'd ask. If given the chance.

That was when another odd detail came to the pegasus. His King was without his great and shiny armor as well; only a tied length of red cloth hung around his neck. _Sombra in casual wear?_ he reluctantly contemplated. _Well, it's just dinner, isn't it?_

As much as he wanted to joke his way to feeling a slight modicum better, the simple sight of the King only made him want to reconnect with the ground and form himself into the tightest of balls. Countless times he had glimpsed him while he made his longwinded speeches from up on high. But now he was near. _So_ near. And now he was so much more _real_ than ever before.

And maybe more vulnerable.

Sombra had his attention fixed on the opposite wall. Another stallion—clearly another guest by the way his eyes bulged out from their sockets—stood stock still in front of the shut door he had been led through. The pegasus watched as the guest spun around to try and head back the way he'd entered. Obviously the door had been locked.

Finally the pegasus noted the other five guests standing idle in front of their own sealed entrances. While most were still busy with the process of taking in the rest of the room—or Sombra himself—another was already trying his best to plow his shoulder to the door. The door in question didn't waver an inch. In-between hammering thrusts, the pegasus noted his bruised lip and swollen eye. It must have been quite the fight that finally brought him here.

"Please, be seated."

Sombra's voice cut through the room like a rockslide in a mine. Those that hadn't noticed him until then sucked in a good mouthful of air, while a unicorn mare by another door literally screamed out loud. It was likely she couldn't help it.

It took close to two minutes before every guest carefully pealed themselves away from their doors. Any access they could provide outward had been removed the moment they shut. Now all that remained was dinner.

The pegasus slowly trotted toward the lavish table, a small part of him still intrigued by its simple elegance and beauty. Hundreds in the Empire starved each day or worked themselves close to death, all while their King sat in his tall tower to toy with his subjects. All while lush meals were served to him from the hooves of others.

The pegasus was happy to find a serrated knife along with their other utensils.

While he approached the table he glossed over the large numbers stamped at the top of each chair. One through six, in a rich silver color—crisscrossing from the open end of the table all the way to the seated Sombra. Spots one and two sat the furthest away from him, while five and six…

_Oh no. I'm seated right next to him._

The pegasus' breathing quickened.

_Only a few feet from him. Barely a leg's reach._

But hadn't he come here with the sole intention of getting _close_ to the King?

The first one to take their seat was the only other pegasus in the room. An older mare—Guest Number Three. With barely a glance at the King she scooted out her chair and sat down without hesitation. Her eyes looked worn and had a far away appearance, as though she were staring at something completely different than the rest of them.

_She looks as though this were any other meal on any other night_, the pegasus thought, pulling out his own chair to the right of her. _She must have lost it completely—scared herself out of her mind. I should have thought about bashing my head in with a rock before coming here. Then I could at lease smile and drool and perhaps feel a bit better as Sombra did whatever he planned on doing to us._

The mare pried her napkin from under her knife and fork and set in on her lap. It was such a simple move and yet in such a place it felt off. Guest Number Five instantly pitied her above the rest.

And already she had said something to him.

He turned to her. "Sorry. What was that?"

She smiled warmly. "I said you remind me of my son. He's a pegasus too, about your age."

While the stallion could think of no sensible rebuttal, he could hardly leave the older mare without acknowledgment. He nodded hurriedly. "That's nice." Straight away he thought of a do-over. "I hope you make it out of here, then," he added awkwardly, instantly hating each word as it left his mouth.

_Grim talk in a grim place_, he thought coldly. _You can't escape it._

Since there was honestly no other place to go, each of the other four guests slowly found their seats. Guest Number One at the edge of the table was a male Earth pony, as were Guests Four and Six seated on the other side of the table. Guest Number Four was the bruised and bloodied bigger stallion with a definitive chip on his shoulder. Before finding his place he looked under both his chair and the table for possible traps, before bringing each piece of silverware close to his eye for inspection. He then sniffed each of them with his nose.

Although the pegasus didn't believe it would be as simple as that.

The only other mare—Guest Number Two, seated at the outer edge—ended up also being the only unicorn in the group. Tightly bunched in her seat, she visibly trembled while she scarcely lifted her head away from her silver plate. Perhaps she thought if she concentrated hard enough, it would turn into a portal that she could jump through and away. Or perhaps not.

"Thank you all for joining me this evening," a smooth, low voice told them all.

Having completely forgotten about the dark stallion with a crown atop his head seated only a legs reach from him, Guest Number Five shuttered from the sudden sound. Sombra's low timbre cut through the deathly silent room with relative ease. But then again, he must have done this dozens of times by now.

"I hope you've all brought your appetites with you," Sombra continued, the rest of his body completely motionless while his red and green eyes steadily surveyed each one of them in turn. Only did Guest Number Three—the older mare by his side—met his studious glare. The pegasus, along with the rest, shied away at the last possible moment. "I have personally brought in what might be some of your favorite delicacies for the occasion. I honestly can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to tonight."


	2. Chapter 2: Main

CHAPTER TWO:

MAIN

7

While Sombra spoke and fixed his gaze somewhere else, Guest Number Five eyed the King wearily. It was an odd experience to glimpse a legend in such close quarters. Part of him didn't even seem real, as though the thoughts and stories you told yourself in your head could never quite match what actually existed. Besides the bizarre eyes and the (possibly fake) red horn, the King of the Empire looked about as normal as any other dark stallion. _Well, perhaps any stallion that forgets to cut their mane every few weeks._

But what the pegasus found oddest of all was the lack of purple smoke dispersing near the edges of his eyes. Although he had only viewed the King from meters away while he spoke to the entire Empire, couldn't he have _sworn_ he saw such an anomaly? Or was that merely just another story blown up by the mouths of hundreds, perhaps in a bid to add more menace to their already sadistic King?

Regardless, Guest Number Five was happy to find such a flourishing detail missing.

Sombra continued, "You all appear so nervous to dine with me. I wish it were not so. I only offer you food tonight—possibly the best you've ever had." He raised his head to gently sniff at the air. "And it already smells _wonderful_ in here."

Since sitting down, the pegasus hadn't registered a single thing besides a constant burning wood smell emitting from the fire. Not had a single aroma touch his snout. _So what was Sombra _smelling_ exactly?_

"Let's begin."

With his horn, Sombra levitated a small bell near the corner of the table. He jingled it a single time and then set it back down. Less than a few seconds later, a pair of doors from some unseen corner of the dim room flew open and a pair of serving ponies in matching attire came marching out. One held a pitcher of what must have been water while the other held one filled with something red, bordering on purple.

Without a word the pair went around the six of them, filling the two glasses in front of each guest with one of both liquids. Once they'd departed, the pegasus sniffed at his water glass before doing the same to the reddish one. He thought it smelled of rotten grapes mixed with a strong alcohol, but couldn't put his hoof on it. He'd had grapes on possibly two occasions during his life. Such delicacies were a rare treat to be found in the Empire.

"Have any of you tried wine before?" Sombra asked them pleasantly. "I hear it's a wonderful alternative to harsher alcohols. And quite cumbersome to find, as well."

Before a single guest could try either of their libations, the same set of serving ponies did another round and set a silver dome before each of them. In the small amount of time before they unveiled what was being kept underneath, the pegasus couldn't help but remember what those ponies from his home had muttered outside his door. _And here comes the glass_, he thought dourly. _Or the poison or the blades or the who-knows-what._

Underneath the polished steel dome was a steaming bowl of vegetable soup.

Large chunks of fresh produce swam in a thin but overwhelmingly savory broth. With the lid pulled away the aroma found him instantly and wouldn't let go. Already his stomach rumbled and he found an odd amount of saliva in his mouth. For untold days he had been close to starving and now the richest—and most tempting of foods—had been placed in front of him.

He was expected to eat although he knew he could not.

After each guest first jumped from what might lay in wait under their domes, they then carefully watched each of the others, individually trying to figure out which direction to go.

"A simple soup to start," the King told them happily. "With some of the freshest ingredients to be found."

Guest Number Four with the bruised eye roughly stuck a spoon in and lifted it back up, letting the chunks of potato and vegetable splatter back into the bowl. He turned to Sombra. "You expect me to eat this?"

The King looked unperturbed. "Yes, I do."

Guest Number Four said, "Even when _you're_ not eating?"

The faintest of grins touched Sombra's lips. "I don't eat… _food_ like you do. I find nourishment from other means. Much more… _scarcely_ found things."

"Oddly that doesn't fill me with much hope," Guest Number Four shot back.

Sombra said no more and turned to the rest—watching curiously.

The silence in the room spun out until the older mare by the pegasus' side first drank from her wine cup before steadily diving into her steaming bowl. Before each bite from her hovering spoon she gently blew on the broth in a bid to cool it down.

_She must imagine she's at home_, Guest Number Five believed. _Home with her son and whoever else might be waiting there._

Each guest viewed her with restrained wonder. They were all waiting for the darkness to come enter the scene. It _had_ to have been coming. They knew it was. But in what form? In what way?

A minute passed. Then another. And now the mare's soup had been finished clean as she dabbed the corners of her mouth with the edge of a napkin. As she stared at her empty bowl, a light smile found her deeply lined face.

It _did_ look like good soup.

When nothing of worry happened to the mare, the bruised stallion across the table roughly plucked up his own wine glass. "Who cares anymore, right? We're all doomed anyways." Spilling a substantial amount, he downed his drink in one large pull before slamming it back down. The clash of metal made more than a few of them squirm in their seats.

"Well, that was good!" he shouted to the room. "How 'bout another?"

Guest Number Four lowered his head to his bowl and loudly gulped it down. With both hooves he brought the bowl up until he returned it back to the table empty. Still with a mouth full of chewy proteins, it appeared as though he was close to choking. Only a few tough swallows later did he open his mouth again to sigh contently.

"What's coming next?" he asked to no one in particular.

That was the tiny display that most had been waiting for. In just a few movements—and with just a few choice words—Guest Number Four had practically summed up the entire situation. Already they were there. Already any hope of escape had been sealed off by locked doors and dozens of walls of thick crystal. The only way out now was forward. And forward could only mean—

The pegasus brought his spoon to his soup and picked out a few choice vegetables. With a severe tightness in his chest he popped its warm contents into his mouth and swallowed thickly, as part of his throat almost tried to close in on him.

A few more spoonfuls and an odd sensation entered his belly—one of contentment and something more. Joy perhaps? It was hard to tell.

He whispered to himself, "No where else but forward," before ditching his spoon in favor of bringing the warm bowl to his lips. The rich flavors and hints of spice made his eyes nearly water. He had never experienced something so good in all his life. And how odd it was that he'd be receiving such a treat on his last day of it all.

But everyone deserves a good last meal.

The pegasus licked what broth remained on his lips and lowered his bowl back to his plate. He finally regarded the rest of the guests, and found nearly everyone either finishing their soups or close to it. The wall had been broken and they were passing through—whether by their own will or by that of their deprived stomachs.

Every guest but one.

The unicorn mare in the far corner only trembled where she sat, head bent, studiously studying the steaming bowl in front of her. Maybe she thought no one would notice. She had been sadly mistaken.

"Is their something wrong with your soup, Guest Number Two?" Sombra asked her, glimpsing her with increased interest. "While everyone else is enjoying their meal, you only sit and shake. You are being rather impolite. Especially while your King is being so generous."

His statement did nothing to quell the unicorn. Instead she only shook more violently while she fretfully scanned the faces of the rest of the guests. If she was looking for some savior, she would find none here. If she was looking for answers, she had dismally been given the same deck of cards as them all.

When the last guest finished their soup, all eyes fell upon her. Even Sombra leaned forward a little in his seat, the edge of one lip pulling up to reveal a single sharp tooth.

Already he was having fun.

When the silence and the attention bore itself too strongly for the unicorn, she huffed out a shaky breath and plucked up her spoon with jittering hooves. To the pegasus seated a ways away, it almost looked as though someone had asked her to eat acid—instead of some delicious soup with fresh carrots and herbs.

The spoon entered her quivering mouth and left clean. For close to twenty seconds she held the contents in her mouth, before gulping it down. Gingerly, she set her spoon back on her napkin.

"I'm done," she squeaked, hardly a statement.

"No you are not," returned the King, a little thicker than before. "You are in my home and I will see that you are fed properly. Before the next course can arrive, every dish must be completed wholly." He tried his best to smile at her. His smile was the type that didn't add much humility to the rest of his face. His piercing eyes rarely blinked. "I can almost hear your stomach from here, Guest Number Two. Why would you deny yourself such a wonderful meal?"

The unicorn mare did as she was bid and brought her spoon back to the bowl. Again she glanced at them all. Again nothing of any use came of it.

Less than a minute later had she cleaned her bowl. By that time her shakes had abated and she breathed in not nearly such a hurried fashion. One of her hooves still anxiously rubbed the napkin near her fork.

"Was the soup to your liking, my subjects?" the King asked them.

No one bothered to answer him with words, each only nodded eagerly.

"Then for that I am glad."

His smile widened. Renewed excitement filled his eyes.

The pegasus seated next to him felt his up-until-then warm stomach grow cold. Their King was waiting for something. Something _bad._ Something was about—

The unicorn in the corner gripped her napkin with force before she brought up both hooves to her neck as she struggled for air. Both eyes bulged horrendously outward as she flew into spasms against her hardwood chair. In one horrendous motion she slammed her emaciated chest into the narrow table, a large cough spilling dozens of droplets of blood onto her bowl and nearly reaching the awestruck stallion sitting across from her. After this, the mare only went head first into her empty bowl, where she did not move again.

An overwhelming silence followed. The next voice to speak was that of the King's.

"How it seems I always neglect to mention it," he said casually. "The completion of each course will lead to a single solitary death. I assure you completely at random. Five courses for six guests. At the end of the meal, the last one alive will get to leave here tonight."

He rang the little bell by his side.

"Next course!" he yelled.

8

The remaining five guests sat wordlessly as both servers from before came around to first remove their finished soup bowls before setting down another silver dome. This one revealed a garden salad with more types of greens than Guest Number Five had ever seen before. He had known of lettuce (of course he had, like when he nicked a head from the small farms that lay near the outskirts of the Empire), but those had been small in stature and close to the same in taste.

Two new ponies in fancy dress came around to remove the lifeless body of Guest Number Two. They didn't bother to close her eyes as they carried her away, so every guest got one last view of her bloodshot, horrorstruck expression. Her silverware and plate were removed soon after.

_At least she's done for the night_, the pegasus thought with gritted teeth. _No more surprises left for her—no more pain, no more misery._

The remaining five still had a meal to finish.

"A light garden salad," Sombra said to them, as if someone had asked (and as if no motionless body was in the midst of being carried from the room). "Fresh lettuce, carrots, peppers, onions, and probably a lot of other things I'm forgetting." He barred his sharp teeth good-naturedly. "Dig in."

Guest Number Five couldn't help but glare at the King when he was through. As much as he had wanted to shy away from such unnecessary evil, the burning he felt inside caused him to continue on anyway. Until the soft crunching of greens pulled at his attention.

"No," he whispered to himself.

The older mare by his side—the only mare remaining, actually—already had a mouthful of colorful greens mashing between her teeth. Through half-lidded eyes she ate, enjoying each new bite. After every few mouthfuls she drank from her water glass, completely ignoring her cup of wine.

Guest Number Five wanted to yell at her for such stupidity—wanted to shake her where she sat and tell her just how stupid she was being. But could he honestly say she was _doing_ such a thing? All she had done was _accept_ her fate. The others, meanwhile—

The slow intake of air through nostrils caused him to glance back at King Sombra. He had his head back, eyes closed and mouth agape, busily sniffing at the air. "And the aroma only grows. You are all being very kind to your King."

Nothing fazed him. Nothing would _ever_ faze him. It would be now or never.

If the pegasus could stop the dinner before it went any further then that would be for the best. If he should be brutally cut down before anything more could come of it, than he'd only be reaching the night's conclusion a tad earlier than predicted. Honestly, there was little choice in the matter.

_But what if I'm the last?_ his mind echoed desperately. _What if we can live through the night?_

_Than you let five innocent ponies die while you sat by and did nothing_, he thought coldly.

Guest Number Five reached for the knife sitting idle on his napkin. Slowly he dragged it across the table before it fell to his lap. He surveyed the scene one last time to find nothing had changed. It would be now then. It _had_ to be—

A warm foreleg was tugging on his.

He looked up to find the older mare gripping his left foreleg in a gentle hoof. Upon her face was a soft smile—in her eyes was a more determined flicker of awareness. Slowly she shook her head. _Now is not the time,_ that face told him. _Not when you can live through this…_

"I'm doing this for everyone," he shot back in hushed tones, releasing that pleasantly soft leg.

With two hooves he awkwardly clung to his knife, getting it steady in his grasp. That was when he felt something pressing against him—not just his shoulders or his head but every single _inch_ of him. It was as though gravity itself had radically intensified in the last few seconds.

"In case any of you are planning on trying for another means of escape or something—_altogether_—different," the King mused, "I would put those plans on hold until the evening comes to an end."

Carefully the pegasus looked up from the table and found the King staring back at him. He did not appear angry or mad, only faintly curious. _Hungry_ too.

When the piercing glare became too much, Guest Number Five turned to watch the rest of the guests. Those that weren't looking at Sombra were picking apart their salads with deft precision, placing bits of lettuce and raw vegetable onto the table for closer inspection. One of them—Guest Number Four with the bruised eye—brought each torn piece to his nose to smell, before moving onto the next.

"I wish you would all enjoy your meal," Sombra continued in mock sadness. "Your probable _last_ meal, yes. But I assure you, it is not mere poison that awaits the unlucky chosen few. You will not see death coming; you will not be able to smell it or taste it or feel it running down the back of your throat as you eat. It is only a spell and nothing more."

Some of Sombra's well-meaning grin had come unhinged as he watched his guests pick apart his nicely orchestrated feast.

"Only once each meal is consumed—consumed _whole_—will the unlucky one come to light. Every bowl, every plate, every scrap of food must be gone before we will know who will be leaving us. This is not a game that can be won through clever notions or surprising tactics. It may only be survived by those who are lucky enough. I control nothing here tonight. Only _fate_ does. You have all lived a good life in my kingdom and now fate has brought you to me. And now fate will see to your end as well… should it led to your last night in this world."

_Pop!_

A large crack from the roaring fire as something crackled and popped. It caused Sombra to bare most of his teeth in a mocking smirk.

"But why must you all be so saddened by such news?" he continued. "I offer you _one last_ great meal before you leave—and even the chance of survival to one. I could have you tortured. I could have each of you killed in varying ways and in varying degrees." He paused, as if his next statement weighed heavily on his mind. "I could see your deaths last a lifetime in and of themselves… but I will not. Instead I offer you something wonderful—something with a chance of failure or success." He again viewed each remaining guest in turn. "And all I ask is that you eat."

9

The mare by the pegasus' side had finished her garden salad some time ago and was now watching the rest with a glossed over expression. If she had heard anything the King had just told her, Guest Number Five had not a single notion. So far she had been completely unperturbed by most everything.

"I won't."

A lone voice in the too large dining room.

"I won't do it and you can't make me."

The pegasus leaned toward the center of the table to watch the Earth stallion—Guest Number One—cross his forelegs while he shook his head from side to side. At that moment he looked like some overgrown filly that didn't want to finish his plate.

"What's the point? What's the point if we're all just going to die anyways? I won't play your game, Sombra. You've done enough to this Empire as is but you will not toy with me no more. I… I won't eat and I don't care what happens. I'll die silent and brooding, but at least I'll know why it's happening and at least I'll know that it _is_ happening and for that I'll be happy. You can have most everything you want, you sick monster, but you can't force me to do what I don't want to. So take this whole meal…" His jaw quivered soundlessly. "…and eat it yourself."

Any lightness from Sombra's face melted to the floor as he leaned away from his seat to rest his dark head on the tips of two hooves. His red and green eyes stood out from the darkness like well polished crystals—the fire right behind him silhouetting the black figure like some foreboding shadow emerging from a great mound of flames.

He said carefully, methodically, "If you will not eat, Guest Number One, then you are forfeiting your chance of survival. There will be no 'maybes' left. You will perish tonight and nothing will change from it."

Guest Number One was now visibly trembling. He breathlessly shouted, "_That's fine!_"

"But why turn away such a _wonderful_ meal? Why turn your back from the _possibility_ of survival? It is foolish, my dear subject. It… is… asinine."

With jerky motions, Guest Number One found the rigged face of the King.

"If I'm going to die tonight," he told him, "then it's going to be from my own accord, not yours. Not _fate_, as you so elegantly put it, either. I _chose_ not to play your game, no matter how you might spin it. At least the fear of whether or not I'll die here tonight will be ripped from the equation. At least I'll _know_."

Sombra solemnly shook his head. "Oh, but the fear of the unknown always has such a marvelous taste, Guest Number One. I wish I could share with you such a delight."

The quivering Earth pony went back to staring at his untouched plate of greens. It appeared he had said all he was going to say that night.

"I will ask this only once," Sombra told the stallion. "Finish your plate and potential walk out of here, or refuse and perish. You say you will die silently and with content in your heart. I will see you are granted only a single one of those."

Guest Number One shut his eyes and mouthed a hurried speech out of earshot from the pegasus. Again he reached for the knife lying useless on his lap. Again he was reminded of the overbearing weight that pushed down on every inch of him. He could move his forelegs and head all he wanted, but he was sure if he tried for much more than that he would be stopped before he made it a single step from his chair.

"So be it," Sombra mumbled tiredly, before his horn lit in an eerie glow.

With his eyes still sealed shut and mouth on constant overdrive, Guest Number One hardly noticed—or simply chose not to—while all four of his legs and a good chunk of his torso disappeared a few inches into his chair. Those portions of the wood his body had been resting against turned to a type of liquid material, until they hardened again, sealing the Earth pony to its bulky embrace. If it hurt him at all, the stallion made no mention.

_Poof!_

In a dissipating cloud of black smoke, Guest Number One disappeared along with his cumbersome seat. His polished utensils and uneaten salad remained where they were.

After watching the sudden vanishing act, three of the guests turned to face their King once more.

His horn had gone back to its neutral colors and a renewed breath of life had entered both freakish eyes. With those same eyes he looked away from them and to his left, to glimpse longingly at the bare window that held a gorgeous view of the nighttime moon and clouds, so high up.

Guest Number Five gripped the edges of his chair to watch the window Sombra had indicated. Only a few seconds later did the sound finally reach their ears.

It was a scream. Elongated and drawn out and without pause or worry. It started out small, like some timid noise from a few doors away, muffled by the distance. And from there it only intensified, steadily growing and rising until it seemed as though the source of such a noise must surely be in the room with the rest of them. The pegasus could not pry his eyes from the window nor the breathtaking view of the sky.

Then it happened.

If Guest Number Five had blinked he would have missed it completely. If he had been focused on another section of the sky he probably would have missed it as well. But he hadn't, although he'd later wish he had. But no, he was staring right at the moon while he fell.

The blackened silhouette of a screaming and thrashing Guest Number One still embedded into his chair flashed across the perfectly white moon with harrowing speed. As quickly as he entered their small view did he exit it, his continued screams ebbing away as he sailed closer to the ground. From such a height not a single one of them heard what happened once he reached the base of the Empire tower. But maybe that was for the best.

10

"I hope you all now understand the gravity of the situation."

As King Sombra spoke, the two serving ponies came out to clear the unfinished salads (and the single finished one) as well as the silverware that belonged to Guest Number One.

"So you will either eat and complete your meals," he continued thickly, "or you will fall. I cannot fathom how a single one of you would decide upon the latter."

Four new silver domes were placed before the remaining guests. Underneath was a warm and flaky pastry filled with what looked like different types of cheeses and herbs. The tantalizing flavors found the pegasus instantly and suddenly the deadly soup he'd consumed only minutes ago felt like it had been eaten days before. While his stomach rumbled away his body betrayed him. The King knew his 'subjects' starved, so what better way to coax them to their deaths than by the simple reward of food?

He honestly didn't believe there could exist a sicker pony than their King.

"And since I absolutely _hate_ the discarding of good food," Sombra continued, "I will let us continue onto the next course. The _main_ course: a light pastry baked with herbs and cheeses. I would have thought there would have been meat on the inside, but then I'm reminded your type foolishly don't consume the flesh of other animals. Maybe that's why you all seem much weaker than most."

Sombra stopped talking to watch his guests. When he noticed none were motioning toward their meals, he bluntly said, "Eat."

Again the older mare by the pegasus' side was the first to dig in, cutting her crisp pastry with the edge of her fork before blowing on its steaming contents. Once cool enough, she chewed each mouthful contently, her eyes not exactly meeting the eyes of anyone else.

Guest Number Five watched as the Earth pony nearest Sombra—Guest Number Six—did close to the same, a soft beaten expression tacked to his face. The bruised stallion next to him surveyed the act with uncontained puzzlement.

Another voice pulled at him.

"You eat…"

The low voice of Sombra, inches away.

"…or you fall, Guest Number Five."

The pegasus turned to find the King giving him his utmost attention. The happy grins that held his face earlier in the night had all but left when Guest Number One went out flying on his own.

The pegasus swallowed dryly and drank from his water glass. It had been the first time he'd done so and he honestly couldn't care what it might have contained. It was supposedly the _food_ that was meant to kill them, not the drink. If anything the King told them held any merit.

After he set it back down he pulled out his fork, driving it into the middle of his pastry. In one swift motion he parted it in two, the insides leaking onto his plate and the aroma only growing more robust. As his chest tightened, his belly gurgled.

He brought a forkful to his salivating maw.

"So that's just it now?" the bruised stallion asked them all openly. He held both forelegs to his temples as though his brain might try for a sudden escape. "We just play along and pretend that nothing's _wrong_? There _has_ to be another side to this! This can't be it! _This_ just can't be it!"

Sombra shifted his gaze towards him. "I'd suggest you start eating, Guest Number Four. I hear there's quite a chill in the air tonight."

"I know what you're problem is," the stallion told Sombra, pointing a leg for emphasis. "You just want blood and guts and all that nasty stuff, don't you? _Don't you?_ You don't care how it's done as long as ponies come to their end while you get to watch. You're sick. And you're twisted. And if you're going to kill me than you're damn well going to know my name! I'm not 'Guest Number Four'; I'm a pony, just like you." He paused to take in a shuddery breath. "_A King should know the names of who he's about to kill!_"

Sombra waited a moment before answering. He said evenly, "You put on a brave front and yet everything about you reeks of fear. You are scared, as you should be, but you are not helping yourself in the slightest by stalling what's to come. My time is precious and you should view this moment as the pinnacle of your short existence. I will continue to call you Guest Number Four because I have no interest in learning the names of those beneath me. I know everything I need to know about you and nothing more. You are Guest Number Four: stallion of the Earth, worker of the fields, father of two, husband to a dead mare, child of no one, fears of darkness and of death but not the death of ones own self."

He leaned a few inches over the table. "You wish to return to your children, don't you? And yet you find the odds of fate stacked against you tonight. Is that it? Do you not believe you might be the one to walk out of here alive? You've already survived two of your other guests—only three remain left in your way."

Guest Number Four said through clenched teeth, "You only want to watch us die."

Sombra answered, "I only want a good meal."

"_I only want to see my kids again!_"

"Then prove it to me and finish your food."

The bruised stallion minutely stared at his plate, before shoving it aside. "I don't trust in fate as much as you might. You want another body to add to your pile? I will give that to you if it means I can go. I… I would do _anything_ for my kids. You say only _one of us_ can walk out of here? Then I'll make sure I'm the last."

With a hard shove from the table, Guest Number Four came to his hooves and swayed on the carpet. He then watched the much smaller stallion next to him drop his forkful of pastry back to his plate.

"I'm sorry about this," Guest Number Four said, before he leapt on top of him, toppling over his heavy chair as they both came crashing to the ground.

Still with an invisible weight bearing down on him, the pegasus could only watch the struggle from the other side of the table. Heads and legs bobbed up from the edge of the wood and then went down with thunderous force. Grunts and wails of pain were constant, before a choking sound cut out the rest and only got worse from there. Since Guest Number Four had been a good size larger than the stallion he had attacked, the pegasus had a good notion of who might come away alive.

Sombra, meanwhile, followed the brutal display with rapt attention, his eyes narrowing as he barred his teeth. Both nostrils flared and even a hint of saliva formed around the corners of his mouth. His eyes twitched in odd patterns and his usually motionless body gently thrummed as if from some electric current. Watching the horrid act occurring mere feet from him, he looked as though in near ecstasy. But was there something more to it than that? Could the pegasus see a hint of purple around those eyes? Could he really—

The disgusting sounds from underneath the table finally came to a stop and the bruised stallion—now with a few more bruises and very watery eyes—jerkily got back to his hooves. He tried his best to avert his eyes from the floor, where he had just murdered someone in a bid to be the one to leave.

With fresh tears he told the King, "I did it. I want to go now. You've reduced me to your level and I just want to leave. You've had your fun and now you've ruined me. I just want to go. Please."

King Sombra finished dabbing the beads of saliva from the bottom of his chin with the red cloth he wore around his neck. "You may go, Guest Number Four, as soon as you finish your meal. I did not ask you to kill other guests. You did that all on your own. And how impolite that was, I might add. But _you_ still have food to finish." He regarded the pegasus' empty plate as well as the mare's, where only a few hints of pastry crumbs were left to be seen. Guest Number Five had been surprised to find just how quick he finished it, even while the possibility of death loomed so prevalent in the air. "_They_ enjoyed their meal. And so must you."

The bruised stallion shook his head. "No. No, please, no." Like a stubborn filly he couldn't completely decide whether he wanted to run away or move forward, so he shuffled in place. "I've already done enough and I just want to go home! _I just want to go home!_"

Sombra's horn glowed in a brief aura of crimson and the stallion disappeared in a huff of smoke, only to reappear back in his chair. The plate he had so roughly shoved aside was returned to him as were his utensils, which had been straightened and set back into place. Completely picturesque.

"Then eat," Sombra growled.


	3. Chapter 3: Dessert

CHAPTER THREE:

DESSERT

11

Guest Number Four glimpsed the other two for some modicum of pity. As far as the pegasus could tell he must not have found any, for he only lowered his head towards his untouched pastry without another word. In two large bites he finished it off, chewing without closing his mouth and, by the looks of it, not relishing a hint of its flavor. His mouth worked away on his main course while his eyes lost what little light they had held deep within. To an empty shell, Sombra had worn him down.

When nothing but crumbs was evident on his plate the pegasus felt that tightness in his chest again. More observant of the deathly scuffle across the table only minutes ago, he had almost forgotten the rules of the nights. When every dish was cleaned and accounted for, a loser would be announced. If the overwrought death of Guest Number Two was of any indication, it would come hard and it would come loud.

A moment ticked by.

The fire pit roared on.

No one played their swan song.

"Just do it already…" the bruised stallion pleaded, tearstained eyes glaring at his empty plate. "_Just do it!_"

"But you're not done yet," Sombra said gravely, as he hovered over the uncompleted dish that had belonged to Guest Number Six. "I told you earlier, I don't like to waste food. There is still a plate to eat, and you will be the one to finish it."

Guest Number Four eyed the half-eaten pastry brought before him as new tears trickled down his cheeks. "We were never meant to survive this…" he mumbled to himself. "We were… never…" Then he started doing something that sent harsh shivers up and down the pegasus' spine.

He started to laugh.

"Hehehehe…"

As he giggled and guffawed he shoved the last remaining pastry in his mouth, most of it breaking off while it clipped the edges of his laughing jaw. Although the pegasus thought he would surly choke trying to perform both acts at once, he hammered his food down while every other breath expelling a new wave of laughter.

In the silence of the room it was terrifying.

"What are…" the pegasus wheezed out, unable to take his eyes from the horrid display.

That was when he caught King Sombra out of the corner of his eye, that smile from earlier in the night returning to the corners of his mouth. Clearly he was enjoying the show.

"_Ack!_"

The insane laughter ceased in a heartbeat as the stallion coughed up what bits of flaky crust remained in his mouth. Around his neck he wrapped two hooves but they were of little use. A second booming cough sent a small torrent of bloody specks onto his empty plate, while his eyes grew much redder than before. For a few moments he almost chewed at the air before he faced the King during the last few seconds of his life. He didn't even look mad at the outcome. He only held an expression that seemed to ask, _Isn't this what you wanted all along?_

With a flat smack his head collided with the table near the edge of his plate, causing his empty wine glass to spill and his untouched utensils to jostle around. Only a few moments later did the pair of serving ponies come to collect the body, as well as Guest Number Four's now useless silverware.

The King somberly watched as they went about their business, not nearly as invested as before, almost as though the struggle to get to such a point should have been easier and with less hassle overall. But the pegasus had never thought the King viewed the lives of others as much as they might.

"Now only two remain…" Sombra whispered to no one.

The pegasus felt the older mare's foreleg grip his own again along with a reassuring squeeze. The first time he had found it odd. This time he clung to it sharply while his nerves shook out of his control.

The King turned to his remaining guests. "Perhaps we will skip the sorbet portion of the evening. Some of our guests haven't been on their best manners, I'm afraid. But I'm sure you'll find the dessert to your liking."

He rang his little bell again.

"Final course," he said.

12

Before the last meal was brought to them, one of the servers asked the older mare to cross to the other side of the table, probably in a bid to keep the guests in a more sociable arrangement. Without hesitation she crossed to the other side and sat opposite the pegasus, smiling daintily as she unfurled her new napkin to set on her lap.

Guest Number Five never thought he hated the King more than he did then.

He was going to make them watch each other. Possibly in the hope that we'd curse our selected opponent while one of us choked to death on his extravagant food. And what would Sombra do when the night ran its course and his final guest trotted back into his miserable Empire? He'd most likely sleep like a filly while counting how many times he could imagine Guest Number One fly past the window before the sandpony claimed him for the night.

But again, that was only if the King _actually_ slept at all. And considering he didn't eat…

"I hope it's not too simple," Sombra said, as the last two domes were set on their plates.

When they were revealed, Guest Number Five was taken back by their lack of extravagance, but also something much larger. Beneath the dome was a generous serving of apple pie complimented with a dollop of cream. Although he had never tried many types of sweetener or creams during his life in the Empire, he had had his share of apple pie in his time. Once a month—sometimes less, if apples were hard to scavenge together—a small group inside his overstuffed house would collect what apples weren't fit for sale or were to be sent to the tower. When they'd collected enough, they'd hoof them over to the lower-end cook in their place, who if they had the right ingredients at the time, would cobble together a pie or even just a crisp. If they had nothing in the pantry _at all_ to add to their little dessert, the pegasus had always settled for baked apple slices with a small sprinkling of stolen sugar.

It had always been a simple treat, and yet he would consider them as some of the best moments of his life. Those rare occurrences when his housemates would come together to complete something on their own, right under the very nose of their tyrant leader. And now that same King was offering him something close to the same—something undoubtedly _better_ than anything he could have _ever_ had before. Although the pegasus would be hard pressed to believe the King had gone through much trouble for this dessert to reach their plates.

"It has been such a big meal already," the King continued. "I would hate to end it on such a heavy note. Please enjoy."

Guest Number Five was unsurprised to find the older mare already a few forkfuls in. She chewed pleasantly, methodically. She was clearly enjoying each warm mouthful.

"This is really good," she told the pair of them.

While the pegasus said nothing in return, Sombra regarded the mare with a mild amount of awe. "I'm pleased to hear it, Guest Number Three." The pegasus wondered if that might not have been the first time a guest of his had actually complimented his opulent meal.

_But then again,_ he thought, _how many of them come to him completely out of their minds?_

With a remarkable amount of ease, the pegasus pushed his plate away from him, the hill of white cream already melting into the perfectly browned crust. After that he took in a shuddery breath and crossed his forelegs over his chest.

This deliberate move caught the attention of the eating mare. With clear confusion she stared at him. "What are you doing?" she asked, more than shocked. "Please don't do that. Eat the rest. Please!"

The pegasus shook his head. "No. I don't want to. I've already had my fill for the night. Maybe a bit of air will do me some good. I've never really gotten the chance to fly before." He felt his worn smile crumble under the pressures from within. With added effort he tried to hide it from the mare—the one guest he had actually gotten to care about, all while he knew not a single detail about her. Yet there was still something that connected them. They had shared in the exact same night as the other. To a point, they were survivors of the same ordeal. It was a connection that could never be replicated or created again. It was a bond and for him it would be enough to die for.

_If I can't save an Empire from a King_, he thought, _maybe a single life will be enough._

"No. No! Please! Eat!" the older mare pleaded, more life running through her weary eyes than the entire night prior. "He'll make you _fall_ if you don't! Please. There's still a chance you can get out!"

Guest Number Five disagreed. "I don't want to. I can't save everyone, but I can still save you." His jaw trembled. "If I don't eat. I fall. And you go home to your son. I can live with that. I can _die_ with that, too."

The older mare only shook her head at him, each line on her wrinkled face pulled back in deep worry and sadness. She had wanted the same for him but he had pulled the possibility from her. Overall he was glad.

"I'm ready," he said to the King, who had been silently monitoring their lively discussion since it began. "Do what you want. I refuse to finish my plate. She wins. She gets to go home."

"She does not get to go home unless I say she can, Guest Number Five."

With his head bent studiously to the table, Sombra viewed him through half-lidded eyes. Any calm demeanor he had been trying for had been laid aside, as the dark stallion glaring at him seemed to want to do nothing more than swipe at his throat. With upmost disgust he viewed him.

"You think you can bend my rules, pegasus?" he continued grudgingly. "I do not _enjoy it_ when guests think they can outwit my carefully planned evening. Everyone that enters here has the same chance of exiting as well, _if_ they maintain their manners. Tonight has already gone terribly irregular, and I am running exceedingly thin of patience. _Especially_ while good food is being wasted on the likes of you—_those who do not understand just how fortunate they are to even share an evening with the likes of a King_."

A bead of saliva dripped from the corner of Sombra's clenched teeth. He made no motion to clean it.

He continued on in clipped notes. "If you do not eat than you _both_ will fall tonight. I have done so before and I will do so again." He gave a tight grin. "You wish to be a hero, Guest Number Five? You still might. Finish your meal and let fate decide. Fifty-fifty odds. You've already been very _lucky_ tonight, as it is."

The air had irregularly been sucked from his lungs. He struggled to take in another breath; to even stare away from his untouched dessert. And then that voice again.

"Please."

The mare was begging to him again.

"It's the only way."

Feeling as though his life was barely his to control anymore, Guest Number Five lowered his head to his wedge of pie, only to eat and think of nothing at all.

It tasted like dirt.

13

A few scattered crumbs remained on his plate and already he could feel it coming—a pain in his lower stomach, rising steadily upward. It had been him all along and he took the news with an odd amount of serenity. Maybe while he strangled to death on whatever spell it was that claimed so many lives before, he could take solace in the knowledge that the mare would go on. She would go on to see her son again. It would be enough, he thought.

Or perhaps he'd try and dive at the King one last time while he strangled for air. What else was there to lose? He'd already lost it all.

Only the pain in his midsection stayed where it was, like an uncomfortable squeezing of the guts. He took his eyes from his finished plate and found the mare already looking upon him; that same tired smile warming her delicate features.

"You remind me of my son," she told him, her smile slowly breaking near the corners. "He worked in the mine—maybe you knew him. He died four days ago and he was all that I had. Some accident, along with others. I never got to see his body, or kiss him goodbye. But I'm sure he was around your age. I'm sure.

"I'm happy it's going to be you."

Using what little strength was left to her, she fixed her beaming smile one last time, as a fine thread of crimson edged out the side of her mouth. Her eyes watered but that was nearly it. Afterwards she closed her eyes and sank in her chair until her head came to rest on the polished table, the trickle of blood escaping her mouth eventually spattering on the rich carpet below.

Guest Number Five watched every last grueling detail and felt every muscle and limb in his body turn to mush. He collapsed backward and couldn't stop the tears from welling in his eyes before cascading down both cheeks. He moaned silently, overwrought with bare emotion.

He had come there tonight to try and save them all. When that plan seemed beyond reason he had instead tried to save a single one of them from their monster of a King. And even that he could not do. The pegasus had felt more misery in his life than a good number of others, but he had never felt as miserable as then… while around him five died while he could live.

Through blurred vision he watched as they took the mare away and cleared her place. They didn't bother to touch his plate or utensils, perhaps it was to make sure he didn't lash out at one of them should they enter his space.

The quiet snap of a door told him they had made their exit from the room.

The warm breath on the back of his neck told him Sombra had finally left his chair by the fire.

"Congratulations, Guest Number Five," the King said, inches away from the back of his neck. "Did you feel a pain in your gut before? I trust it was just your system trying to adjust to such rich foods. You must feel so _lucky_ now, don't you? Did you enjoy my play of many acts? There are always so many levels of fear during these feasts—sometimes it's hard to determine how it'll all fit into place. Tonight may have started rocky, but I believe we ended on a rather satisfying note."

The pegasus shuttered as two strong hooves gripped the sides of his head, angling him to the left. The disparaging gravity he had felt for most of the night went into overdrive, as his legs felt nearly pinned to the arms of his chair.

"The unicorn had to be the first to go," Sombra continued in a lecturing tone. "I've always _loathed_ unicorns with a passion. They believe they can be in the same league as a King? She was timid and she was cowardly." Sombra painfully readjusted his view. "Guest Number One took it upon himself to exit the evening. I dislike it when such disruptions enter my dinners. And then Guest Number Four had to only make matters worse." He breathed heavily on his neck. "For breaking so many rules he had to be the next to go."

The last time he moved his head he faced it directly ahead of him, where the body of the older mare had just been dragged from.

"The two of you made for such entertaining company," he told him earnestly. "Neither of you wanting to live while the other had to die. It's a rare treat, I must say." Now the King spoke close to his ear. "The taste of fear is bitter at best. If there is no _hope_ in the mix then it is hardly worth going after. I could have brought you all here for simple execution, but like a true King I enjoy a challenge, as well as more refined tastes. While Guest Number Six died in the hostile grasp of another, his fear was constant and overwhelming. _He was going to die and he knew it_. But not you, and not that mare far past her prime, either. _Delicate_ fear. _Controlled_ fear. _Rewarded_ fear. It is a taste most refined and I seek it above all else."

Without letting go of his head, the dark King pulled out the pegasus' chair to stare at him directly. With narrowed eyes he viewed him, that vapor trail of purple smoke swimming in an unseen current along the sides of his head. So it hadn't been a legend after all. Sombra only had to eat first.

"I thank you for this meal."

Sombra's face came in close and the pegasus could only shut his eyes from the sight. Instead of the intense pain he had been expecting, a rough and wet tongue licked one tearstained cheek before discovering the other. The pegasus tried to pull away as the hard hooves gripping him only clamped down tighter.

A second later Sombra pulled away, the purple floating from both eyes oozing out a shade brighter than before. Without a care he unlocked the pegasus' head and took a few steps away. Safely away from him, Guest Number Five shook in his chair while running both hooves along his wet face.

With weak legs he shoved himself from his seat, unobserving of the lack of gravity weighing him down. As he fell, the knife sitting idle on his lap went to the carpeted floor soundlessly. He glimpsed it with red rimmed eyes.

"Now come and embrace your King."

Sombra stood to the side of the fire-pit, meeting the pegasus' eyes and nothing more.

"Thank him for his generous hospitality."

Carefully, the pegasus sidled his way over. One of his hooves dragged along the forgotten and unseen knife with him.

"If you are too weak to stand, one of my servants will assist you home. I only ask before you may leave a single gift of appreciation."

Sombra held out one foreleg in a beckoning gesture.

The pegasus only scooted closer towards him, knife still bouncing against one of his dragging hooves.

_It would all be worth it_, he thought, as he crossed into the shadow of the King. _We could all be free. I could save them all._ And if he didn't? _Then I'd still die happy, regardless. At least I tried. At least I _did_ something tonight._

"Say thank you, Guest Number Five," the King said.

"Thank you," the pegasus said weakly, "for the wonderful meal."

King Sombra smiled down on him. "Was that so—"

His sentence was cut short as a silver blade shot up through the bottom of his jaw.

14

The pegasus had the oddest sense of déjà vu, as he watched his poor King struggle with the knife wedged in his mouth and directly through the middle of his tongue. With both darkened hooves Sombra beat at the area around his throat in a means to grab at the handle. Those hooves were only met by a small river of blood that was hurriedly escaping his widening wound. On shaky legs he retreated, coughing in heavy bursts that must have been close to eviscerating his lungs.

It looked as though it hurt. Really it did. At yet it wasn't enough for him.

The pegasus felt newfound energy enter his limbs and came to his hooves. Two steps forward he leapt up and shoved the King backward with an odd amount of ease. With a softened thud (Sombra still had his cape on) he collapsed to his back where the pegasus instantly removed the knife with two steady hooves, before bringing it back down along his throat.

"_Why did you ever come here!_" the pegasus screamed, his own words barely coherent as he continued his wrath with the blade. "_Why couldn't you leave us alone? Why won't you die? WHAT ARE YOU?_"

Sombra had stopped fighting with his guest some time ago. His legs hung in midair while his eyes stared blankly at the darkened ceiling. Guest Number Five would not bother to close the King's eyes. They could dry and rot and even _that_ he would believe would be too good for him.

While he climbed off he gave Sombra's elongated red horn a swift kick that jerked his lifeless head to the side. Either the horn had been real all along, or it was fused on there something good.

Without another moment left to wonder how exactly he'd exit such a place with hooves covered in the King's own blood, the pegasus picked a door and went for it. Only a few steps in that direction did a voice bid him to stop.

"You think you are the first to dream of such a sight, pegasus?"

He turned and was close to serene while he viewed the standing dark stallion before him. Any trace of some bloody encounter—if it had ever happened at all—had been swept from the room in the few seconds he hadn't been looking. Even Sombra looked the same as always. Dark and immaculate. Untouched and unburdened.

He continued, "Many have plotted my death but not a single one will see it come to fruition. I am King of this land and as long as it stands, so will I. You are a brave one, I will grant you that, so I hope the sight of my death warms your cold bed at night as you continue to live in my Empire. Consider yourself _lucky_ to be granted such a reward." He exhaled a long breath. "But this night had gone on for too long, and there is still one more piece of business to attend to."

The King snapped away in a haze of smoke and reappeared by the pegasus' side.

With burning eyes he leaned in and whispered to him: "If you ever speak a single word of what happened here tonight, I will rip out your tongue with my teeth. I will know, Guest Number Five. As long as this remains my kingdom, I will surly know."

15

Eight months had passed since that night and still the questions came.

The first night back had been the easiest, when the pegasus had snuck into his home in the middle of the night, only alerting the silly few who honestly thought he'd make it back. A few older stallions that bunked close to him hugged him without a word. They followed him closely as he made his way to his bed where he didn't bother lying down; only stare at the floor with muted shock and so much more on the inside. The first question came next.

"So what happened? What happened to the rest of them?"

The pegasus only regarded his housemate with irritated eyes and said not a word. When someone else tried a new line of questioning, he showed them his back and went to studying the cracked wall near his cot. At the time it seemed like better company.

For awhile he remained as such, listening to the steady breathing of others on their bunks, until a set of small forelegs wrapped themselves around him. It was the young mare that had hoped he would make it back earlier in the day. "I'm happy you made it," she whispered, burying her head into his side.

That would be the first time he'd cry outside the Crystal Empire tower.

Time went on and the questions lessened.

They never stopped completely, but after a time—and after the pegasus kept mute to the nagging inquires entirely—they abundantly ceased in their amount. A month following that horrible dinner and the only times he was asked was during that last day of the month, when a new batch of poor ponies were invited to dine with the King. Somehow certain ponies remembered him from before. Somehow they just knew where he would be after the reading of the names. It was very hard to stay silent in those times.

"What's going to happen to my son?"

More than a few fathers and mothers asked him the same question or close to the same, fear evident in their eyes and emotions run amuck. Although they had little hope of saving their loved ones from the tyranny of their King, perhaps they thought knowing what was to befall their young enough to come beg for his answer.

Sadly, they were denied each time.

It was eight months after his own evening with Sombra that it finally happened. Someone close to him—someone that he actually _knew_ well enough in this miserable world—had been invited. He had been sitting alone on his bed (a reoccurring image in the months that preceded it), while he again forwent the latest name reading. What exactly was the point when your name had already been picked?

With genuine tears on her cheeks she had come to him, her breath already hitching from the anxiety that must have been welling up inside. Without a word the young mare that had hoped for his return when he himself went to dine, wrapped herself around him, crying into his shoulder.

A deep chill found his guts and the notion of what must have happened only minutes before pulled at his heart like a hook. It wasn't fair, he thought. It wasn't damn fair.

"What did you do?" she croaked in-between sobs. "If I can do that then maybe I can come back too. What's going to happen to me?"

The pegasus only pulled her in close.

16

Most of the others living in his home were still awake and waiting anxiously in the kitchen for her return. Since his presence might have soured their little get-together, the pegasus had remained in their shared bedroom, spread out on his thin cot but not at all close to drowsy.

The one that visited him wasn't the one he had been hoping for.

"You smell rather good tonight, Guest Number Five."

While the rest of his body was close to non-existent in the darkness of the room, his red and green eyes almost floated in the black. The purple smoke from his eyes billowed out richly.

The King must have had a fine meal that evening.

"You've been saying things you're not supposed to, pegasus. I told you what was to happen."

He heard him edge towards the bed, hoofs on hardwood and cape dragging behind.

"Now open your mouth."

THE END


End file.
